


the way they leave (trails of honey)

by tea_and_tae (orphan_account)



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Dissociation, Highschool AU, Orphans, Panic Attacks, basically me projecting on jeongin, delinquent au, the first chapter has an anxiety attack
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-13
Updated: 2018-01-13
Packaged: 2019-03-04 04:20:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13356378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/tea_and_tae
Summary: Yang Jeongin was unmistakably, irreversibly, on his own.





	the way they leave (trails of honey)

**Author's Note:**

> Hello~ i wrote this a while back after jonghyun's passing. at the time i was trying to wrap my head around people leaving us, and i ended up writing this. i'm sorry for projecting on jeongin my baby it will get better! i was inspired to post after the young wings teaser, it reminded me of my story a lot and i realized i wanted to finish making my story. another note: i didn't tag any ships cause i don't really romantically ship any of ski. i'm all about those in depth supportive friendships tho. maybe later, but rn everything's just platonic! i'm not sure how many chapters there will be, but i plan on writing a good ol' fashion delinquent au. thanks for reading i hope you enjoy!
> 
> x
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING:  
> this first chapter has a pretty in depth panic attacks and dissociation description, i have really bad anxiety so i based it on my own experinces. IM SORRY FOR PROJECTING ON JEONGIN!

When bad things happen, you go kind of numb; Jeongin was realizing. The first day he cried; he cried so hard his eyes didn't even look like his, his voice was so hoarse he sounded like a 67 year old man, not a freshman in highschool. But by the third day the tears wouldn't come, crying didn't relieve anything. It was just him being pathetic. There was nothing he could do. He felt empty. Nothing but empty. But bad things do that to you, they change you and your life and your future, and there nothing you can do but be dragged along; it seemed to Jeongin.

x

The train ride to Seoul was probably awkward for the social worker with him, but Jeongin was far too immersed in staring out the window to take in the situation. It had been five days. Five days and his older brother still hasn't called. So there he was, in the hands of South Korea’s child services. He didn’t blame his brother, they weren't going through an easy time, but at the moment Jeongin was hurtling away from Busan and everything he had known for his 15 years of life, and his brother didn’t even bother to call him back.

x

For the past three days, Jeongin's gut had been rebelling against him. As soon as the social workers knocked on the door, something in Jeongin told him not to answer. As soon as the social workers asked if he had any other family, Jeongin's gut told him to lie, to say he has an aunt or something. As soon as they were putting him in that ratty cab with his backpack of his belongings, that cab that smelled like smoke and all he could think about was fire and the car flipping, windows shattering, airbags failing, last breaths in cold winter air choking him out-

“So, have you been to Seoul before?” Jeongin's breath released against the window, fogging over the image of the suburbs of the city starting to surround them. He wasn't in the car. He was on a train. Going to Seoul. And he was okay.

“Uh, once. On a school trip.”  
“Did you see any cool tourist spots?”  
“We went to some park.”  
“Ahh,”

The conversation stopped there. With the whirlwind of the last few days, the anxiety of the approaching train station didn’t even phase him. It was almost normal now for it to feel like someone was taking his heart in their hands and trying to rip it from his chest. Just a day in the life.

x

Luckily for him, his social worker didn’t hail a taxi when they left the station and entered Seoul. “It's only a few blocks to the apartment!” the social worker, Jeongin was racking his brain to remember his name, had exclaimed. Jeongin didn’t see why he was so happy. It wasn’t like he should be sad, it was just- happy seemed like a lot.

x

They walked down the streets, Jeongin having to hold himself back from clutching on to Mr. Choi, the social worker. (It had taken him a good ten minutes to finally remember his name) There were people everywhere. They weren't in the nicest part of town, definitely not the nicest, but open storefronts lined the canyon-like streets, the yells of vendors echoing up the sides of the looming apartment buildings above them. Men, women, children, students, it seemed all of Korea was crowding the streets, shoving down the side walks with heads down, personal space not existing. Jeongin just kept his eyes on the social workers back. “Is- is all of Seoul like this?” Mr. Choi didn't hear him.  
Finally they turned out of the crowd, into an ally. Puddles soaked through cardboard boxes, presumably from the markets taking up the store fronts next to them. A subtle ‘drip drip’ of water cascading from the fire escapes towering above them kept tempo as they traversed up the hill in silence. Jeongin looked back for a second, and tried to act like his breath wasn’t taken away. As much as he wanted to stay as unattached, have the least memories with Seoul, looking back at the slowly setting sun really was something else. The soft pinks contrasted so beautifully with the lights of the skyline below them, and the soft din of the busy streets seemed to make his life into a drama. “THUMP! THUMP! THUMP!”  
Mr. Choi was pounding on a door. He was standing on the step, surrounded by an array of half alive plants. Next to the barred window, a sign was drilled into the brick wall:

SEOUL BOYS HOUSE: for stray children

They were here.

“Chan! Woojin! I swear, someone open this door-” The door was quickly ripped open by a boy who could of doubled for a squirrel. Really, his eyes were perfectly clear and glinting, his cheeks perfectly round, his lanky limbs reaching out and dragging Jeongin inside the building, the social worker trailing behind them like this was normal.

“THE NEW KIDS HERE! THIS IS NOT A DRILL HE'S HERE!” the squirrel yelled, dragging Jeongin further into the apartment. There were shoes everywhere in the mud room, and confusion passed through his mind as he also saw some discarded shirts and jackets haphazardly thrown on the ground among the mess. The social worker just stepped over the chaos and followed them. Jeongin was brought to a living room of sorts, just as messy as the mud room. An old couch with bursts of cotton coming out of the edges sat in the middle of the room facing an old tv balanced on a concoction of cinder blocks and planks and old textbooks. Stairs spiraled up to what looked like a second and third floor above them. The windows were barred just like the one in the front, with a few book shelves hung unevenly on the wall, no books on these, just a few plants, some figurines, and a bunch of knicknacks. An impressive amount of lighters and tiny glass animals. “The boys of apartment 123b, I give you-” The squirrel boy turned to Jeongin. “Wait what's your name again?”

“Great host skills. 10 outta 10.” A boy was sprawled imbetween the couch and a coffee table on the floor, momentarily looking up from his magazine. God, he was beautiful. He looked like he hadn't gotten out of his pajamas all day, but he still looked ethereal.

“Good job Jisung, I knew we could count on you.” Another boy sat up from hiding among the cushions of the couch. Jeongin took a step back. This boy was scary. His eyes boar through Jeongin’s soul, and left a cold wake. He had only heard 10 words from his mouth, but Jeongin was already taking mental notes.

“Boys, just ask his name.” Mr. Choi yelled from the kitchen in the next room. Jeongin looked down at his shoes. First impressions were not his forte.

“I’m- uh, i’m Yang Jeongin. It's nice to meet you all.” He kept his eyes down and bowed deeply, trying to take some deep breaths.

“What a cutie!” A giant hand slapped down on his back, forcing a cough out of him. The squirrel didn't seem to realize jeongin doubling over from his friendly (?) slap. “I think you’ll fit in here just fine!” The boy walked to the couch and swifty swatted the magazine out of the beautiful boys hands and into his face. “-This is Hyunjin!” Hyunjin rolled up his magazine and swatted the backs of his attackers sweatpants with it. He remained unfazed, and sat down next to the scary boy, and put his arm around him. Jeongin gulped and waited for the boy to attack. “This is Changbin! Completely harmless, sweet, loving-” The boy continued to go on about Changbin while leaning harder and harder on him and poking his cheeks, while Changbin acted like he didn’t exist. Jeongin just stood there.  
Finally Changbin snapped, and shoved the squirrel boy across the couch, and almost off the other end. “And your lovely tour guide, who forgot to introduce himself,” the squirrel boy giggled, “-is Jisung.” Changbins voice was weirdly smooth and almost hypnotized Jeongin. He just nodded along, a little (a lot) out of it.

x

“Alright Jeongin, come over here,” His social worker called from the kitchen. Jeongin quickly bowed to the other boys, then, clutching his backpack straps, followed the social worker’s voice further into the kitchen.

Not unlike the living room, the kitchen was in complete disarray. Mr. Choi sat at a large table in the middle covered in plants (what was it with this house and plants?) and various text books, regular books, and school work. Behind him was all the rest of the things a kitchen would have, except this one was covered in dishes, plates, old rags, ever more plants. It was a total, irreversible mess. “Come over here, Jeongin. We've gotta sign off on a few things before I leave for the night.” Dred froze his veins. Jeongin barely knew his social worker, but, but- he didn't want to be alone. Nothing told him that he actually wasn’t alone, those other boys were there, he just felt the panic slowly fill his veins as he tredded over to the social worker.

On the table in front of him was two documents. Four lines he had to sign. Then he would be living here. Stuck at apartment 123b, officially saying he had no family. officially an orphan. Jeongin’s hands could barely pick up the pen. “Just sign there and i'll be on my way! We will send some people to check on you next week.” How could the social worker not sense the anxiety filling up the room, emanating from Jeongin. Maybe he was just used to it. Jeongin gulped as he neatly printed and signed his name. Jeongin still wasn’t used to the chilling panic that kept filling all of of him.

Why was the room fading. “Alrighty Jeongin, This here is Woojin, he’ll show you your room! You have my number if you need anything, see you next week!” The words echoed around his brain. The other boy put his hand on Jeongin's shoulder. “Alright, you’ll be rooming with Changbin, Hyunjin, and Jisung! I believe you already met them-” The older boy, Woojin, maybe, Jeongin wasn’t really present at the moment, started to walk away, still talking. Why did Jeongin feel like stone. His lungs were solidifying into concrete. His veins were filling with oil. Everything felt so heavy, but he felt so light, Jeongin could feel himself almost floating into his brain, out of his limbs. He barely registered Woojin saying his name. “Jeongin, Jeongin?” His name rolled in his own mouth like taffy. He was Jeongin. Oh yeah. There was a lot going on. “Hey guys? Help me out here the new kids being weird.” Jeongin wondered if he would ever get to eat seafood from Busan again. It really was the best. He doubted Seoul had anything as good as it. “Jeongin, what the fuck.” He felt the concrete get heavier as he thought of his friends back in Busan. Would he ever see them again? “Should we call the social worker? Why won't he move?” Jeongin probably wouldn't. He wasn't going to see anything from his old life anymore. Cause his old life was gone. His old house was the banks now. His friends back in Busan, his parents in the ground, no, in the car. If the car hadn’t flipped, maybe they would be on their way to get him right now. His parents were coming. They wouldn’t just leave him to be tossed around. That isn't happening. None of this is happening. “Hyunjin don't you dare!” “What else should we do?” “Hyunjin I swear-”

A cold hand snapped against his face. Jeongin felt the pain crystalize across his cheek as he stumbled back against the table, back into the real world. This was real.

“Hyunjin what the fuck? You can't just slap the poor kid i'm pretty sure that's not ethical-”

This was real, Jeongin realized. He was alone, in Seoul, in the world. His parents were dead, his friends and his old life was gone, and now he had just been plopped down in some teen home in Seoul only to be slapped by some male model look alike. The tears started to fall.

“Look what you’ve done!”  
“Hyunjin!”  
“I doubt he's crying just cause he got slapped, I mean-”

At first the tears dripped from his eyes like snowflakes. Just small tears he could of wiped away with his sleeve if he had the energy to move. But slowly his thoughts turned from things like his friends and his pets to bigger things, like his family, his house, his life, everything that was gone. And the tears turned to honey. The tears grew, they seemed to just pour from his eyes in constant streams and then he really was sobbing. Sobbing and curled up on the kitchen floor surrounded by strangers, losing his mind.

Slowly the older boys realized what was happening. “Oh no, oh god-” Woojin quickly sat next to him, trying to wipe his tears, but they wouldn't stop. Honestly, Jeongin couldn’t see them stopping. “Let's get you up to your room, oh god, uh- yeah lets go.” Jeongin didn’t even register Woojin picking him up and walking towards the stairs.

He really was stuck here.

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you liked it! comment below and thoughts or ideas or stuff you wanna see (no promises just looking for insperation) also kudos and subscriptions keep my ego big! if you wanna talk about the story stray kids or really anything (even your day, thats something i like to do) hmu on twitter @strayji 
> 
> thank you for your support!


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